


Of Fireflies & Starlight

by AndAllMannerofThings



Series: Weird Autumn [2]
Category: Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, M/M, Post Game, bea and mae are absolutely lost in the sauce that is mutual longing, fluff with a semblance of a plot, fluff with a tiny slice of angst, this whole fic is thousands of words of my self-indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-02-07 03:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18612166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndAllMannerofThings/pseuds/AndAllMannerofThings
Summary: “I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Bea grumbled lowly, more to herself than anyone who might be in earshot.“I can!” Mae chirped, looking over her shoulder as they continued to hike up a hill so high Bea was starting to believe it was actually endless. “I can be pretty persuasive!”Fall turns to winter, and the gang decides a nightime bonfire is in order.





	1. running up that hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! This fic started after I finally got around to playing Longest Night, and I began a bit of writing as a way to get a feel for the character's voices and personalities, until it got waaaaaaay longer than I had intended, and I decided to post it here! This is my first time writing all four of the gang interacting with each other, so I'm definitely still working on the dynamics and voices.
> 
> (also there is serious shortage of fics with Bea is both the POV and pining for Mae, and I decided to fix that)

* * *

For the fifth time in less than a minute, Bea blew hard into her gloved hands, desperately willing them to grow at least a _little_ less intolerably frozen in the night air. The thin layer of snow, dry leaves, and twigs that blanketed the ground crunched under her boots, while the trees that loomed over her cast a quilt of shadows every direction she looked.

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she grumbled lowly, more to herself than anyone who might be in earshot.

“I can!” Mae chirped, looking over her shoulder as they continued to hike up a hill so high and steep Bea was starting to believe it was _actually_ endless. “I can be pretty persuasive!”

Bea felt a grin slide across her face in spite of the breeze that cut through her coat. “You have your moments. And you've already got me saving up for a road trip - this is pretty small in comparison."

The smirk on Mae’s face broadened into a full smile, baring the tips of her fangs. For the first time since they started their jaunt in the woods, Bea was grateful for the low light of the night: it did wonders to mask her blush.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Bea,” Mae said, twisting around fully to walk up the hill backwards, as though daring the world to try and make her snap an ankle. “If you don’t freeze first, that is,” she added after watching Bea blow into her gloves _again._

Bea forced herself to _not_ shiver as the cold threatened to crush her lungs with each breath. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat, and kept her face as neutral as possible.

“I’m fine,” she muttered - neither of them was fooled.

Mae quirked a brow, her smile turning decidedly coy. “Riiiiiight. Sure you are.” The red scarf wrapped around her neck fluttered in the wind dramatically - Bea was starting to think Mae had worn it so loosely solely to achieve that effect.

Bea rolled her eyes. “I’ll survive ‘til we get to the fire.” Probably. _Hopefully._ After that... unfortunate night in the mines back in autumn, it would be _terribly_ anticlimactic to freeze to death on a walk through the woods.

Then again, what was Bea's life if not anticlimax after another? No hope; no dreams; no chances.

No mom.

Mae nodded. “Uh-huh, you’re _totally_ not-” Her sentence died in the air, twisting into a yelp as her foot slipped on a loose stone. She fell backwards into a small pit in the hill, head connecting roughly with the frozen ground. Her eyes slammed shut.

_No, no, no, no._

Bea could hear the beat of a monitor; smell the sick-yet-sanitized odor that clung to everything in that damn hospital ward Mae had been put in for those two days when it wasn't clear if she would ever wake up again. Bea jumped down into the pit and knelt beside her.

“Mae - Mae!”

Bea reached out and grabbed Mae by the shoulders tightly. Panic began to blossom in the pit of her stomach.

“Ow!” Mae whined after a second that dragged on for what felt like a year. Her eyes snapped open, taking in the sight of Bea’s expression. “Woah! I’m fine, I’m fine!”

Bea let out a long, drawn out sigh. “You are?”

Mae nodded, up and down over and over. “Yeah, pretty sure. Are _you_ okay? Looks like you’ve seen a-” She frowned, and didn’t finish the thought.

Bea took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. “Just scared me, is all.”

“I’m fine, Bea. Promise.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, falling like that.”

Mea’s eyes shined in the dark, reflecting the scattered rays of moonlight that broke through the treeline above them. “Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Bea snapped, more harshly than she had meant. She took Mae’s paw and helped her to her feet.

Mae started to rub the dirt and snow off her back, and let out a disappointed groan. “I can see why people don’t hike backwards.”

Bea narrowed her eyes, and stuffed her hands back into her pockets. “Most people don’t walk backwards _anywhere,_ whether or not they’re hiking up hills in the middle of the damn night.”

Mae shrugged, and gave a wobbly, apologetic grin. “Most people are boring?”

Bea snorted. Mae was... many things to her - many things that she didn’t quite know how to put to words; boring was _not_ one of those things.

“Eh. Fair enough. C’mon, let’s hurry up. I’m sure the guys already think we’re lost.”

Mae’s ears twitched the same moment she blinked, and she turned back up towards the hill. “Yep. Righto.”

They climbed the final stretch of the hill in silence. As they neared the summit, Bea glanced over her shoulder at the sea of bare trees and dry leaves that lay behind them. Of all the hills sprawling across the countryside outside of Possum Springs, it was only natural the Mae would have chosen the tallest one this side of the county line.

“Good God,” she muttered. “I am _not_ ready to climb back down.”

Mae laughed. “We’ll have time to rest,” she replied. “Besides, getting back down’s the easy part.”

Bea arched a brow, and pushed back the familiar creeping itch for a cigarette. “How so?”

Mae held her paws up, and turned them in circles. “Easy. Tuck and roll. Probably hit a tree. Tuck and roll again. Probably hit another tree. Repeat ‘til the ground gets flat again.”

Bea’s mouth twitched in a half-smile. “I’ll pass.”

Mae threw her arms in the air in (probably?) mock exasperation. “You _never_ want to do anything fun!”

“Hey! I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

Bea could hear the hope in Mae’s voice when she asked, “You’re having fun?”

Bea scoffed, though there wasn’t any venom in the noise, and gestured at the remainder of the hill they still needed to climb. “Well, not _quite_ yet. This is better than working, though.”

If Bea was being honest with herself, tonight was better than most of her usual pastimes: staring at the ceiling long into the night, thinking about dreams she used to have; floating through life in a haze, wishing something, anything, could make her feel like she had before senior year; going over bills and expenses, cutting every corner possible; wondering what it would be like to sleep, and never, _ever_ wake up.

“Ugh, _finally,_ ” Mae said, snapping Bea out of her head.

The orange glow of firelight poked over the last crest of the hill. Now that they were out of the treeline, Bea could see the moon - round and plump - glowing silver low in the horizon. Above lay an ocean of stars, sparkling and twinkling without a care in the world - each pinprick of light a reminder of better times.

Mae huffed. “Whoever is in charge of naming mountains should come up with one for this dang hill. Mt. Endless.”

“Naw,” Bea drawled. “Town council will get involved, and next thing you know this place will get some stupid name that’s worse than no name at all.”

Mae shuddered, mind no doubt swimming with puns that would make even the most enthusiastic dad groan. “Ugh, you’re _right._ ”

“I’m known to be right every now and again.”

Mae looked over her shoulder and flashed her a dorky wink. "You have your moments."

They came to a clearing at the top of the hill. In the center, surrounded by a ring of stones and a pair of large - thankfully snow-free - logs, was a roaring campfire, stacked high with twigs and hastily broken wood. Bea squinted in the sudden brightness, and saw two figures sitting on one of the logs.

“Ah! Here they are!” Gregg called out, arms waving high from his perch, casting fluid shadows across the snow.

“Here they are!” Angus confirmed in his deep rumble of a voice, paws hidden in the massive sleeves of an equally massive turtleneck sweater.

“Here we are!” Mae replied, evidently deciding the night could only be improved with more repetition. She glanced at Bea with expectation written on her face.

“Here we are!” Bea echoed, earning a nod of approval from the other three.

While Gregg started to hurriedly wrap the half-eaten candy bar he had been eating, Angus rose from their seat beside the fire and met Bea and Mae in the middle of the clearing, off to the side from the fire.

"We were starting to think you two had an accident," Angus said, taking a swig from a steaming thermos that smelt of cocoa.

"Ha! I _wish_ _,_ " Mae replied. "That would've been exciting! The directions Bea printed out were all smudgy and we missed a turn."

"Uh-huh," Bea drawled. "And the directions were smudgy because _Mae_ decided to spill her entire bottle of Fiascola on it five minutes into the drive."

Mae threw her arms out wide. "Hey, it was Lime Fiasco because I'm not a heathen! And _I_ wouldn't have spilled it if _you_ didn't hit that pothole!"

" _I_ wouldn't have hit the pothole if _you_ hadn't-"

“Too bad you didn’t get lost in the woods!" Gregg cut in as he jogged over, beginning the familiar back-and-forth they all knew too well. Bea sighed, if only because she knew she wasn’t going to get a word in edgewise until their little greeting was over.

“Too bad you didn’t get chased by forest gods,” Mae replied, smile widening.

Gregg scoffed, unimpressed. “Too bad you didn’t get hit by an avalanche.”

Bea opened her mouth, ready to point out that there was barely enough snow on the ground to leave footprints in. She stopped herself when Angus fixed her with a knowing, slightly suffering smile and shook his head.

“Pfft,” Mae said. “Too bad you didn’t get eaten by a _whole flock_ of demon owls.”

Gregg gasped, taken aback. “Too bad you didn’t freeze to death like little people-popsicles.”

Mae laughed, dismissive and smug all at once. “It takes more than a stiff breeze to end me,” she stated with pride, paws on her hips. Her stance combined with her scarf blowing in the wind made her appear like she was auditioning to play the World’s Cheapest Superhero.

Angus chuckled, mouth curling into a gentle smile. “I don’t think Bea shares your strength.”

Bea watched their breath turn to fog as they spoke. She failed spectacularly at suppressing her next shiver.

“I’m fine.”

Mae smirked, jabbing a thumb at Bea. “Uh-huh. We’ve been over this already.”

Gregg’s ears perked up in amusement. “Really, Bea? It’s not even that cold! The snow already started melting!"

Bea rolled her eyes with a sigh and strode towards the fire, reaching her hands out for some much needed warmth - and to stop her fingers from fiddling with her cigarettes and lighter.

“In case none of you have noticed, I’m the only one here that doesn’t have fur,” she deadpanned.

“Yeah, but you’re, like, also the only one that’s wearing five layers,” Gregg said, smile unwavering.

Bea met him with a flat stare. “Four layers, thank you.” She only received another laugh in turn.

The other three made quick work of spreading out around the fire: Gregg and Angus took their previous seats nuzzled up against each other, and started rummaging through a duffle bag bloated with snacks. Mae decided against sitting on the other log, and instead sidled up beside Bea.

Satisfied that they had all lapsed into a moment of silence, Bea brought her gaze back to the deep orange-yellow glow of the fire, so brilliant and _friendly_ in the darkness that blanketed the land around them. She could feel her fingers again at last now that the fire had done its job, and she brought her hands up to her bare neck in a vain attempt to stave off the next blast of wind.

“Geez,” Mae said, drawing Bea’s attention once more. She had a curious expression on her face, as though she had somehow only now realised that Bea was - despite her feeble protests - really, _really_ fucking cold, and not simply faking it for the sake of jokes. She unwound the scarf from her own neck with a flourish.

“Here,” Mae offered, holding the balled up scarf out to Bea.

Bea shrugged, not yet willing to admit defeat. “I’m good.”

Mae waggled the scarf and her eyebrows in tandem. “Bee-ah-trice," Mae droned in a comical approximation of Bea's monotone, "you are _very_ good at a shitload of things.”

Bea blinked. “Okay. Thanks?”

“But you are _not_ a good liar,” Mae continued, scarf still waggling. “Like, you’re pretty _awful_ at it, and that’s coming from _me._ ”

Bea winced, thinking back to Mae’s ill-fated attempt at distracting the clerk at URev with a shudder. “Ouch. Really?”

Mae nodded sagely. “I know. It’s horrible to learn this way. But your teeth are chattering so hard there’s a good chance one of ‘em is gonna snap right out of your mouth. I’m not going to sit back and watch you wreck your mostly innocent teeth while I can still save them.”

Bea attempted to hide the grin forming without success. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Mae held a paw to her chest, mouth wide with horror and shock. “Ridiculous?? _Me???_ How can you say that?! I thought we cared about each other!?”

They shared a laugh, and Bea held out her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, you’ve convinced me!”

Mae puffed her chest out, awfully pleased with herself. “My persuasiousity wins again.”

“Persuasiveness,” Bea corrected automatically.

“I know what I said and I meant what I said,” Mae replied. There was a strange nervous flicker of tension that flashed across her face when she saw Bea start to reach for the scarf, and she pulled her paws back closer to her chest.

“Ha. Haha. Uh. Can I?” Mae asked at last, paws fidgeting with the scarf.

Bea waited for Mae to finish the question. Then, after a few seconds had passed in silence, “Can you what?”

Mae’s paws started to knead the scarf like a ball of dough, and her eyes kept flicking between Bea's face and her own feet. “Haha! Y’know. Like. Put it on you. If you. Want me to. Haha!”

Bea regarded Mae for a moment - eyes aglow with reflected firelight, smile as wide and bright as it was wobbly and unsure - then shrugged, deciding that she could afford to let herself give in a little more than she normally allowed.

“Sure,” Bea said, bowing her head, “go ahead.”

Bea bent down at the same time Mae stood on the tips of her toes, and the two bumped their heads against each other. There was a brief moment of hesitation where they each apologized, and then Mae started to wrap the scarf around Bea’s neck.

Bea made the not-actually-a-mistake of looking up from the ground, and she ended up locking eyes with Mae. Bea had always liked Mae’s eyes, ever since they had met as kids. Sure, they were... _unusual_ to say the least, with their yellowed sclera and scarlet irises, but _everything_ about Mae was unusual and unique and _so wonderfully - occasionally infuriatingly - different_ from everyone else Bea knew.

Bea could get lost in those bright, bloody red eyes if she let herself. She had a half a mind to say “Fuck it” and keep on taking in the sight as long as she could.

A flush ran up Mae’s cheeks, and Bea could feel the heat rise on her own. Neither of them were willing to break eye contact until Mae was satisfied the scarf was secured tightly around Bea’s neck.

“Thanks,” Bea mumbled to the fire, running a hand across the fabric of the scarf as an excuse to bring her attention elsewhere.

“No problem,” Mae muttered to the ground, sliding her fingers through her fading red hair. Her notched ear twitched rhythmically with the crackle of the fire.

Bea rose back to her full height and took a deep breath in through her nose, and immediately mentally swore at herself when she realised that the scarf smelt _just like Mae,_ all warm and wild and full of life (also: tacos?). The damn thing even _felt_ like her: soft and fuzzy; all gentle curves and no edges.

_Ah. Ah, shit._

Bea could get used to this - _wanted_ to get used to this.

A snicker from Gregg and a hushed word from Angus brought Bea and Mae’s attention away from each other and over to the other side of the fire. The two were huddled together, whispering conspiratorially.

“What’s so funny?” Mae asked, making a damned valiant effort at appearing cool and stoic despite the blush lingering on her cheeks.

“Ah, nothing you need to worry about,” Angus said with a kind smile, and Bea might’ve believed him if he hadn’t answered so quickly he had sounded like a broken text-to-speech program.

“Angus told me a really funny joke,” Gregg said at the same time Angus had spoken. Their smiles faltered when they processed each other’s answers.

“Sweet,” Mae said, marching over to take a seat on the free log. She flopped down heavily, kicking her legs in the air. Her eyes kept darting around, looking at everyone and everything _except_ Bea.

“What was the joke?” Bea asked Angus in a carefully even tone of voice, tucking the ends of Mae’s scarf down under her coat.

_If there was a joke to begin with._

Angus waved her question out of the air. “You don’t want to hear it.”

“I do!” Mae all but yelled. “If it’s funny enough for Gregg, it’s, like, 100% funny enough for me!”

_And probably 50% funny enough for_ me.

Gregg’s paws balled up into fists. Angus looked like a wild animal caught in headlights. Bea wondered if any of them, herself included, had _ever_ been good at lying. Knowing their respective track records, she would bet on _definitely not._

“Oh, um,” Angus softly said. “You should tell them, Bug.”

Gregg punched Angus on the shoulder playfully. “No, no, no, no, no - you say it best, Captain.”

“Ah, right, thanks.” He cleared his throat. Mae leaned towards him, ears perked and ready.

“Um, oh!" Angus said, tapping his fingers against the log. “Why couldn’t the kid get in to see the pirate movie?”

Bea groaned, holding a palm to her face. “Please, for the love of God, don’t-”

“It was rated ‘Argh!’” Angus exclaimed with a genuine spark of laughter.

Bea pressed her hands against her temples. "Aaaaaaagh!"

Mae winced like Angus had tried to throw a rock at her head. "Dude, _no._ "

Gregg threw his head back and gave a laugh so hard and with such obvious force joy behind it that Bea feared he was going to start choking. “Ahaha! See guys! It’s even funnier the second time around! God!” He smacked the log with both paws. “Pirate jokes - they always get me!”

Bea and Mae shared a glance. Mae’s face was scrunched up in an adorable blend of confusion from Gregg’s reaction and righteous fury at having been subjected to the pun.

“No, no, no!" Mae moaned. “I hate to keep giving out truths tonight, but that _sucked._ ”

“Pretty overhyped,” Bea added.

What had they _really_ been laughing about? Bea pulled at the scarf to loosen it, and groaned when she realised that her _horribly_ awkward definitely- _not_ -flirting-but- _maybe_ - _kinda_ - _sorta_ -flirting had been in full view of the two.

_Oh. Oh God. Was it that obvious?  
_

_Fuck._

_Well, good to know I’ve managed to embarrass myself in record time._

As though willfully seeking to break the tension left behind by his atrocious attempt at a cover story, Angus reached into the duffel bag and ripped out a sack of marshmallows. “Who wants s’mores?”

“S’mores!” Gregg yelled, fists punching the air.

Mae let out a loud whoop, and grabbed Bea by the sleeve to lead her to the s'mores with infectious enthusiasm.

Bea feared that tonight might end up more eventful than any of them had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, a kudos and a comment makes my day!  
> (Fun fact: I wrote the majority of this while listening to "Runners in the Night" by The Rural Alberta Advantage - this song always gives me very strong NITW vibes and I highly recommend the band)  
> This chapter's title comes from the song "Running Up That Hill" by Kate Bush


	2. these hands that wring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which s'mores are eaten, cocoa is poured, the title starts to make sense, and the awkwardness continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when I said this fic started as something that got out of hand and too long? It keeps getting longer

“Well?” Mae asked as Beatrice took a bite out of the s’more Mae had _insisted_ (borderline _demanded_ ) on making for her. “Whaddya think?”

The marshmallow was burnt black around the sides, the cracker was a bit crumbly, and there was more chocolate piled on than Bea would’ve preferred (leave it to Mae to try to kill her through diabetic shock). Still, all in all, it was a perfectly serviceable s’more that did a fine job taking up space in her empty stomach.

“It’s fine,” Bea answered at length, wiping a few stray drops of chocolate off her fingers with a napkin. “Probably would be better if you tried not burning them for a few minutes.”

“ _I_ like ‘em with a bit of crunch,” Mae replied in a way that revealed she knew that wasn’t a valid excuse. “Sometimes they get a lil’ _too_ crunchy. Not my fault fire’s hot.”

Bea chuckled lowly. “People have blamed you for a _lot_ of things, Maedae, but I don’t think anyone’s ever accused you of being in charge of the laws of physics.”

“Never too late to _start_ being in charge of physics,” Mae said. “If my job doesn’t work out-” Bea’s eyes widened in surprise, but Mae continued “-I’ll look into becoming a god. Or a forest witch. _Or_ a mountain-slash-valley witch.” Mae rubbed her chin in mock consideration of the issue. “ _Or_ a mountain-slash-valley-slash-forest witch-god, and I’ll-”

Bea held up a hand to signal Mae to pause. “Hang on a second, _you_ have a _job?_ Since when?”

Mae fixed Bea with a questioning glance, before snapping the fingers of her paw. “Oh _God_ I knew I forgot to tell you something on the ride over!” She ran her paw through her tangle of red hair, suddenly bashful. “I applied at the Taco Buck today!”

 _Well,_ shit, _maybe the world_ is _ending after all._

Bea felt more surprised than the night she learned there was an evil god slumbering beneath their feet. “Mae, that’s great! Really great!”

Mae beamed at her. “Yeah! I mean, like, it’s not official _yet._ But the dude that gave me the application said there was _basically_ no-one fighting me for the same spot so I’m _almost_ a shoe-in!” Her smile flickered for just a second. “It’s nothing fancy. Mopping floors and taking out garbage and supporting capitalism and all that. But still!” She held her paws high in celebration. “A job! Yay!”

“A job!” Bea agreed, raising her own hands a bit in solidarity.

“Woah! Duder!” Gregg said, pulling the s’more he had been in the middle of eating away from his mouth (a few crumbs tumbled out but he either didn’t notice or care). “That’s great!”

“Yeah, congrats!” Angus said, withdrawing from Gregg slightly to avoid getting an earful of his outburst.

“Man!” Gregg continued, leaning towards Angus in a beautiful moment of a complete lack of self-awareness. “Are they, like, gonna give you free tacos?”

“That’s what I asked the guy that gave me the application!” Mae replied, eyes sparkling mischievously. “He just laughed! But! He didn’t actually _say_ no, so maybe?”

“Yeah!” Gregg said. “There’s always a chance!”

“There is,” Angus started, adjusting his hat after a stray gust of wind threatened to blow it down the hill. “There are a few chain restaurants that let their employees take the leftover food at the end of the night so it doesn’t _all_ go to waste. I know Donut Wolf gives away some of their donuts at closing.”

Bea nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. And there’s that coffee place over in Briddle that gives away all their stale bagels and stuff, too.”

Mae’s smile looked like she had just won the state lottery. Or robbed a bank successfully. Probably both. “So, what I’m hearing is that there’s a greater-than-zero chance I’m getting free tacos?”

Bea bit back a laugh. “Yes, ma’am. There is a greater-than-zero chance that you will get all the free, greasy, over cooked day-old tacos your paws can hold.”

Mae whooped with excitement. “I’ll take it!”

Gregg groaned, already imagining the stomachaches that would ensue. “Ugh, that’s - that’s... worse than _no_ tacos. Way worse.”

“ _Way_ worse,” Angus echoed, resting a paw on Gregg’s leg. “At best, they’ll be terrible, and at worst you’re going to get sick. Badly.”

Mae slowly lowered her paws as she spoke. “I’ve known you were a coward for years, Gregg, but you too, Angus?” She poked a thumb out at Bea. “Bea agrees with me-”

“I do not,” Bea cut in with the driest voice she could muster, and she chuckled when Mae’s mouth immediately screwed up into an exaggerated frown.

Mae huffed, and narrowed her eyes at Bea. “... _I_ agree with me that any taco is better than no taco. If you can have your pizza scale, I can have the taco scale. Tacos all the way up!” she said, holding her arms out wide.

“You’re gonna get, like, _all_ the food poisoning a person can get,” Gregg said, voice dripping with forced sadness. “And then all the times I said it was too bad you didn’t die from toxic food are gonna be really unfunny in hindsight. You’re gonna turn me into a retroactive asshole! I’m already kinda a current asshole!”

“Oh, you _are_ not an asshole!” Angus assured, patting Gregg's leg. Gregg, for his own part, wore an adoring smile, as though Angus had just recited love poetry.

“They’re both right, you know,” Bea said in spite of the look Mae tossed her way. “And that’s assuming you’re getting any free tacos in the first place, which - let’s be honest - you’re not.”

Mae folded her arms and furrowed her brows in (hopefully?) mock anger, lips pushed out in a pout. “You guys get me all wound up for free tacos, and then you try to take them away from me. I’m not letting it happen. I’m becoming the bandit-queen of tacos.” She hopped off the log and pointed at Gregg, Angus, and Bea in turn as she continued. “I _hate_ you all, and I hope you never come crawling to me looking for free tacos, because the bandit-queen _doesn’t_ share with traitors.”

They all shared a laugh at that, and started to chat about whatever topics came up in conversation: Gregg and Angus’ upcoming move to Bright Harbor (Mae was thrilled to bits for them, but noted a hint of sadness sitting at the edge of her voice); the usual humdrum happenings that occur in a dried up town like Possum Springs; plans for Longest Night (Bea was thankful that particular conversation was short - acknowledging that Longest Night was only a few weeks away meant acknowledging another year had come and gone without mom, and she did _not_ need to share those feelings with anyone tonight).

***

Eventually, after more s’mores than Bea could count (even Gregg was starting to look a bit queasy every time Mae offered him another) and a few more thermoses of cocoa the always dependable Angus had squirrelled away in his duffle bag, the four once again lapsed into a comfortable, familiar silence, simply content to listen to the crackle of the fire. Gregg and Angus turned to each other for a more private conversation, and Bea left her seat by the fire to stretch her legs and get a bottle of water. The stars shined bright overhead, and Bea found herself gazing up at the little pinpricks of blue-white light.

_Wish you were here, mom. You always knew all the stories about the stars._

Bea spent a moment trying to find shapes in the sky, but her knowledge of the constellations was restricted to a handful of the ones traditionally found on Longest Night: if any of those were out tonight, they eluded her.

_Should’ve paid more attention when I had the chance._

Wind rolled across the hill and straight through Bea’s coat, snapping her out of her little reverie. Sighing, Bea grabbed a bottle of water from the duffle bag and made her way back to the fire.

“So,” Bea said, handing the bottle over to Mae, who took it eagerly with her free paw, her other occupied with yet another s’more.

“So,” Mae said after a mighty gulp. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“Eh. Nothing much.” Bea took her seat beside Mae, and waited for the latter to finish her next drink of water. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Just did!” Mae said, flashing that _damn_ fang-baring smile. Then, after Bea shot her a flat stare, “Beabea, you can ask me anything, anytime.”

Bea nodded. “You haven’t had a job since high school, and you haven’t shown any interest in getting one since. Why the sudden change of plans?”

Mae chewed her chocolate-stained lip. “I, uh, don’t really know? It was kinda an impulsive sort of thing?” She offered the water bottle to Bea, eyes darting between the fire and the ground.

“You got a job because of an impulsive decision?” Bea asked, not quite managing to hide her disbelief. She took the water bottle with an appreciative nod.

“You have to admit it’s better than most of my impulses,” Mae said, kicking her feet in the air and letting them slam back against the log. “ _Way_ better.”

“Eh, that’s only partly true,” Bea said, taking a swig from the water. “Not all of your impulses are _completely_ terrible.”

Mae gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Uh-huh. Name one that’s actually worked out.”

“Well, the trip to Fort Lucenne was fun, for starters,” Bea admitted. “The fish god at the fountain, I mean. Not the shoplifting. Definitely not the shoplifting.”

Mae laughed, no doubt picturing the shocked looks on the faces of the poor mall patrons who had ended up drenched. “Yeah that was pretty great, Bee-ah-trice Jones!” Mae announced in the same ridiculous voice she had used all those nights ago, drawing a chuckle from Bea. “I still think the shoplifting would’ve been fine if _you_ hadn’t chickened out!”

“Ugh, I am _not_ having this argument with you again. Whenever you steal it’s the regular workers that end up suffering for it, not the company,” Bea said, taking another drink of water as Mae finished the last bits of her s’more. Her whiskers twitched, and when she turned to face Bea, her mouth was _covered_ in chocolate, graham cracker crumbs, and a few stray wisps of marshmallow.

“You’re the one that brought it up!” Mae took one of her crumpled up used napkins and started to wipe at the mess on her face without success. “Dang, this stuff’s like glue. Tasty, sugary glue.”

Bea couldn’t help but smile as she watched Mae continue to scrub vigorously at her mouth with the napkin, accomplishing nothing save spreading the mess of chocolate and marshmallow further around.

 _It’s not_ my _fault she’s so cute, right? It’s not!_

 _...Good_ God, _Beatrice, get a grip on yourself before you do something stupid._

“Shomethin’ fhunny?” Mae asked, words slurred from the napkin she was practically shoving into her mouth.

“Naw, just you being you,” Bea answered. Though Mae’s mouth was hidden behind her paws, Bea could tell she was grinning from the way her eyes wrinkled. Bea fished around in the pockets of her coat and withdrew a towelette she’d taken from the Clik-Clak last time they’d all had band practice.

“Here,” Bea said, tearing open the packet. “You’ll probably have more luck with this.”

Mae snickered, finally dropping the napkin into her lap. “Man, what would I do without you, Beabea?”

Bea cleared her throat, Mae’s scarf suddenly feeling _extremely_ warm and tight around her neck, and pulled out the towelette. “Crimes with Gregg, probably.”

“I do love me some crimes with Gregg.” Mae’s grin broadened into that _Goddamn fang-baring_ _smile,_ and this time Bea could feel the heat rising on her cheeks before she could push it down. “But I love-” Mae interrupted herself with a bizarrely nervous giggle, and paused for a beat “-I _love_ not-crimes with you, too!”

Bea laughed. It was a light, shakey laugh - the sort of laugh she usually broke out when chatting up handsome guys and girls at those parties Jackie threw. In a move that did more to highlight her embarrassment than hide it, Bea ran her fingers along Mae’s scarf, and ran her other hand over the ridges on the back of her head.

“Thanks, Maedae,” she ended up saying after trying, and failing, to think of a response.

Mae also appeared flustered by her own words. Her paws fidgeted with each other, and she looked like she had half a mind to spring up from the log and sprint down the long, winding road back into town. “Haha! Yeah.”

A moment passed in silence before Bea recalled what she was in the middle of doing something before Mae had managed to derail her entire train of thought.

“Oh, here,” Bea said, holding out the towelette.

“Ah,” Mae said, snapping out of her fidgeting. “Yes. Yep.” She reached out with a paw to take the towelette, only stopping when Bea pulled it back out of reach.

“Goddamn,” Bea said slowly, taking in the sight of Mae’s marshmallow stained cheeks, “I’m almost impressed.”

Mae shrugged, and gave a wobbly grin. “Eh. What can I say? I’m good at impressing you?”

“That’s true,” Bea said. Then, with a wry grin after seeing the trace of a blush run up Mae’s cheeks, “Except when it comes to playing bass.”

Mae had the nerve to act offended, folding her arms and delivering a pout. “I never heard the songs before! I had to sight-read Gregg’s _garbage_ handwriting! And I hadn’t played bass in almost two years!” She pointed at Bea the same way witnesses on police procedurals pointed at suspects in a line-up. “You just plug everything into a computer and - and hit play!”

Bea scoffed without anger, too experienced in this line of conversation to be annoyed. “Uh-huh. Next time we write a song I’ll let you use the laptop and we’ll see how well that turns out.”

Mae, evidently failing to think of a clever remark, huffed, and tried to snatch the towelette out of Bea’s hands.

Bea yanked her hands back. “Nope. I’ve only got one of these,” she explained, gesturing at the pile of ruined napkins Mae had left in her wake. Then, before her brain had a chance to stop the words from spilling out, “Let me.”

“I’m a grown-ass adult, Bea,” Mae replied. The irony of her saying that while covered in the ruins of s’mores was, as far as Bea could tell, completely lost on her. Despite her narrowed eyes, Mae's mouth quirked up in a smile that was as genuine as it was wobbly. “But. Haha! If. You. Want to! Haha!”

Bea had the feeling that she would one day look back on her memories of this night and wish she could travel back in time to strangle herself before she had the opportunity to climb this godforsaken hill.

_Eh. Fuck it._

Bea reached out towards Mae’s cheek, and started to wipe away the remnants of the s’mores on her cheeks. Their eyes met, because _of course_ Bea was going to make that not-really-a-mistake again. Reflected firelight danced in those bright, bloody red eyes, twirling and winding over and over.

Bea had never seen eyes quite as strangely beautiful as Mae’s were tonight. _Fuck,_ Bea had never seen anyone quite as strangely beautiful as _Mae_ was tonight: all soft curves and sharp fangs; bloody eyes and face-splitting smiles.

Bea realised that the fierce heat rising on her cheeks was coming from a blush so furious there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Mae was able to see it.

_Ah, fuck me._

A wave of nervousness bounced through Bea. Her hand twitched as she continued to clean Mae's face, and the tips of her claws brushed Mae’s cheek ( _goddamn,_ her fur was so _soft_ ), tracing a long line in her fur.

_Ah, fuck me!_

Mae, blushing hot enough to boil water, twitched her ear and let out a short _purr_ in response to the touch.

**_Ah! Fuck! Me!_ **

If that cosmic whatever-the-fuck-it-was lurking in the mines was actually able to destroy the world, Bea wouldn’t object if it decided to start now. She wiped the last bit of s’more off Mae’s face, then immediately shifted around on the log until she was facing the treeline.

“All done,” Bea told the forest.

“Thanks,” Mae said to the ground. “A bunch. Thanks a bunch.”

“Anytime.”

There was an _impossibly_ long moment of awkward, heavy silence. For what had to be at least a full minute, there wasn’t a sound on the hill except the crackle of the fire and an occasional stray word from Gregg and Angus’ conversation.

_Oh God. You’ve done it now, Santello. You have done it now._

Bea felt the itch for a cigarette claw its way up the back of her throat.

_It’s not my fault she’s cute! It's not!  
_

Bea groaned, and rubbed at the scarf around her neck, tracing patterns with the tips of her claws.

 _Oh, Santello, you’ve got it_ bad.

 _You can’t keep dancing around the issue_ forever. _Just tell her-_

Bea pushed the thought away with a sigh.

_Nope. Not gonna do that._

Eventually, just when Bea was starting to fear that the rest of the night was going to pass in silence, a fierce blast of wind smashed its way across the hill. Fallen leaves leapt up from the ground, spinning in wild patterns; clumps of snow were flung from the branches of trees, scattering across the hillside; the fire sputtered, throwing up sparks and dying embers.

Everyone made some noise of discomfort at the sudden cold. Gregg and Angus huddled up against one another, while Mae hopped to her feet and stepped close to the fire, ears nearly pressed flat.

“Fuck,” Bea hissed, pulling her coat tight to no avail; this was the sort of cold that sliced straight through clothing. She jumped to her feet and made her way to the fire besides Mae.

“I will admit,” Mae said as Bea approached, “that it is now officially effing cold. You have my permission to complain.”

“Thank you for the validation,” Bea drawled, teeth chattering. “I was desperate for it.”

“I always aim to please.”

Bea chuckled. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Eh. I have a funny way of doing most things.”

Another gust of wind rolled by, drawing a plume of acrid smoke from the fire, which whipped towards Gregg and Angus.

Gregg yelped, and buried his face in Angus’ shoulder when the smoke reached his eyes. Angus pulled the collar of his sweater to shield his mouth from the smoke, but Bea could see the smile in his eyes when Gregg launched at him.

Bea opened her mouth to speak, a decision which turned out to be yet another one of the many mistakes she had made tonight. The wind shifted directions, and the smoke quickly swept over her own face with a fury. She began to cough - eyes burning, throat stinging - held her hands up to shield her face, and ducked her head down low.

Bea heard Mae laughing beside her, and she let out a sigh as she kept rubbing her watering eyes. “Well, I’m glad _you’re_ having fun,” she said, annoyance bleeding into her voice.

“I’m not laughing _at_ you,” Mae replied, tugging on Bea’s sleeve with her paw. “Well, I am a _little_ bit. But look!”

“Oh, damn it,” Bea muttered to herself when she noticed she had smudged her gloves with eyeliner. Mae continued to tug on her sleeve - she had an awfully strong grip considering her tiny frame. “Give me a second.”

Mae did not, in fact, give Bea a second. She continued to tug on Bea’s sleeve, more insistent than before. “Beabea. Beabea.”

Bea rolled her eyes, and turned her gaze up from the ground. “What, Maedae?”

The campfire had been more affected by the burst of wind than Bea had first noticed: a stray log near the edge of the wood pile had slipped from its previous spot, kicking up a large wave of sparks and embers that danced in circles above the fire.

Mae pointed at the sparks with childlike glee. “Fireflies!”

Bea laughed, mind racing with memories of broken furnaces and mad old ladies; crumbling windmills and reunions with old friends. “Heh. Yeah. Fireflies.”

Mae looked up at Bea with a mischievous grin. “I’d try my usual magical shit again for you, but with my luck I’d trip and set my ass on fire.” She laughed. “Then I’ll come back as a fire ghost, haunt you ‘til the end of time.”

Bea grinned back, thinking of Mae dancing under the moonlight outside Mrs. Miranda’s house, wreathed in a crowd of fireflies. “I’d put you out before you got the chance to be a ghost. Besides, I can think of _way_ worse lives than being stuck with your spirit.”

Mae nudged Bea with her elbow, smile widening until her fangs were bared (part of Bea was starting the think Mae was doing that on _purpose,_ and she didn’t quite know how to feel about that). “Aw, Beabea! I always knew you were a big ol’ softy!”

“For you, maybe."

 _Another goddamn_ gust of wind came across the clearing - mercifully gentler than the previous - and Bea shivered in the cold. Mae took note of this, and let go of Bea’s sleeve in order to fidget with her paws.

“I’m warm,” Mae announced without prompt.

Bea scoffed, and fought to keep her voice even in the cold air. “Good for you.”

“No. I mean, like - like. Uh?” Mae’s eyes darted between the fire, the sky, and Bea herself. “Like - I’m warm! And you’re - _you_ are _not_ warm!”

Bea frowned as her breath turned to fog. “Uh-huh. Thank you for reminding me. I almost forgot.”

Mae groaned. Her notched ear twitched, and her paws were fidgeting with each other with frantic speed. “What I’m saying is - uh, y’know? - I can - _we_ can... like that time we were in Scouts? - Ugh!” Blushing, Mae threw her head down, and kept her gaze focused on the ground. She held her arms out wide for what could only be the prelude to an embrace. “I’m warm! You’re not!”

Bea blinked. Her mouth was dry; her throat was tight. “I - uh.”

Bea hazarded a glance over at Gregg and Angus, and found that the boys were too busy exchanging words with each other to pay them any attention.

 _Well. It_ is _cold. And she is_ always _warm..._

Bea swallowed, and replied quietly. “Alright. Sure.”

Mae wasted no time in closing the distance between them, stomping across the snow with clumsy steps. She wrapped Bea up tight in her skinny little arms, and snuggled in close.

Bea’s breath caught in her throat. Mae was _warm -_ really _goddamn warm -_ and _soft,_ and all sorts of other qualities that she didn’t know how to put to words. Bea remembered that Mae had _always_ given the best hugs back when they were kids, but there was something about the way Mae was clinging to her now - so tight yet soft - that felt different; familiar but new at the same time.

After several seconds of simply standing there with her hands hanging at her sides, Bea returned the embrace with a furious blush. She wrapped one arm around Mae’s waist, and brought her other hand to rest on Mae’s shoulder.

Mae turned her head up to regard Bea with the shyest smile she had ever seen. “So, uh. Um. Yeah? You - you warming up, Beabea?”

_You could say that._

Bea nodded, and cleared her throat more loudly than necessary. “Yeah. Sure am. Thanks, Maedae."

Mae turned her gaze to the swarm of sparks that flew around the fire. “Ah. Yep. Good. I mean, I can, like, keep doing this if you want? If you're cold, I am _very_ warm!” she said without breath.

Part of Bea’s mind was screaming at her: This was a mistake - a disaster - and when it blew up the friendship she had finally rediscovered after so many years would fall apart, again.

Bea pushed those thoughts away. “Fine by me,” she said. Then, with a wobbly grin of her own, “You _are_ very warm.”

Mae didn’t say anything in response - she didn’t have to, the smile in her bright, bloody red eyes said more than any number of words - and she leaned back into Bea, somehow managing to hug her tighter.

Bea smiled fully, content to stand with her best maybe-kinda-more-than-a-friend in the whole world and watch imaginary fireflies dance in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> (This chapter's title is taken from the song Runners in the Night by the Rural Alberta Advantage)


	3. she rings like a bell through the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Awkwardness Continues, compliments are given, a bonfire is mourned, and the story begins to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God has cursed me for my hubris by refusing to let this fic be short

The night passed by in a blurry haze of lighthearted conversation and, improbably enough, more s'mores. Bea wasn't sure what time it was, but it had to be getting quite late: the moon hung high in the sky, and the campfire - which had once blazed with a fury - was now little more than a handful of flickering twigs and smouldering logs.

The four had settled around the fire once again. Angus had propped his head up against Gregg's shoulder, and was passing time humming a song to himself while watching the trees bend in the wind. Gregg was attempting to whittle a twig with one of his _many_ knives, and seemed to be accomplishing nothing more than occasionally pricking himself in the paw (thankfully, he had managed to avoid drawing blood so far). Mae was digging through the duffel bag in search of something appropriately sweet and tooth-rotting. Bea had finally given in to the urge she had been fighting since her shift ended earlier in the day, and was smoking a cigarette while watching the fire crackle and burn.

Soon it would be time for them all to go back home; back to Possum Springs. Bea found even less comfort in that thought than she normally did: although she _officially_ had tomorrow off from her job at the Ol' Pickaxe, she had the sickening suspicion that she would be _unofficially_ spending most of it juggling unpaid bills and balancing expense reports, again. Then, once the weekend was over and Monday came around, the same monotonous, soul-crushing cycle of endless work and bearing her father’s responsibilities would start over again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

 _I’m getting out of this town,_ Bea told herself (once upon a time she had actually believed it). _It might take another year or two or three or fucking four, but I’m getting the hell out._

“Hey,” Mae said, clumsily stomping her way towards Bea with a thermos of cocoa in her paw. “You want some?”

Bea blinked, shoving aside her worries, if only for a moment. “Between you and Gregg I’m amazed there’s still any left.”

“Actually, I’m, like, ninety-five percent sure Angus drank the most of it. Dude’s got a _serious_ secret sweet tooth, and that’s coming from _me._ ” She waggled the thermos up and down; Bea felt a strong urge to stop her before any of the cocoa could slosh out.

Bea flicked ash off the end of her cigarette, and clamped it back between her teeth. "Is it still warm?”

Mae stepped closer to the log, and Bea was able to make out a fat mustache of cocoa and foam on her upper lip. Bea wondered if Mae had always been this... distressingly, infuriatingly adorable, and she had simply been too blind to notice it in the past.

"Ha! It is not!" Mae's whiskers twitched in irritation, and she wiped the cocoa off her lip with the sleeve of her jacket. " _Someone_ (Gregg is the someone)," she began, voice _dripping_ with disdain, "left the lid off, and now it's, like, _fucking_ freezing." She held up a finger. "But! It is still cocoa!"

Bea took a long, deep drag off her cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly. "Wow. You sure know how to make a great sales pitch."

"I'm practicing so I can ruin capitalism from the inside out," Mae replied. She flopped down on the log, and wasted no time in nuzzling up to Bea shoulder-to-shoulder (the touch shouldn't have warmed Bea as much as it did, yet...). “Taco Buck’s not gonna sabotage itself."

“Why would you-”

“Pastabilities,” Mae interrupted, holding the thermos out towards Bea, “must - no matter how much I _love_ tacos - be avenged.” She took a few seconds to gauge Bea's reaction. "I'm joking! I'm, like, gonna try to make this job last!"

Bea laughed, taking the thermos with one hand, while removing the cigarette from her mouth with the other. "I know, but... Trust me, Maedae, you _do not_ need practice in ruining capitalism. Although-" she rolled the cigarette between the tips of her claws "-there is a bit more to activism than shitty sales pitches and shoplifting: like demonstrating, unionizing, collective bargaining, strikes..."

Mae blinked her bright, bloody red at eyes at Bea slowly, shifting to press even harder against Bea's shoulder. " _God,_ you are _such_ a nerd."

Bea tried to ignore the strange flutter in her stomach, and took a swig from the cocoa. It was exactly as cold as Mae had warned, but it was still sweet and a welcome change of taste in the wake of tobacco. "I prefer to think I'm socially conscious, but sure, let's go with that."

Mae grinned mischievously. "You're my nerd. But. _Still a nerd._ "

Bea passed the cocoa back to Mae, scoffing in a vain attempt to hide her flustered reaction to Mae's words. "I'm not the one that's still playing Demontower in twenty-fucking-seventeen."

Mae laughed, fixing Bea with a dazzling (yet distinctly unimpressed) smile. "Now you're too cool for _Demontower?_ Next time I bring my laptop, you're not getting a turn!"

Bea rolled her eyes, placing the cigarette back between her teeth. "Fine. But when you get stuck _again_ I'm not helping."

Mae screwed her mouth down into an exaggerated frown. "Blackmail? That's cold, Beatrice. Ice cold."

"Like the cocoa."

“Don’t look at me like that! I already told you it’s Gregg’s fault!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Maedae," Bea drawled, leaning into Mae with a smirk. She could feel how warm and soft Mae was, even through their coats - Bea started to flush just thinking about it.

Bea and Mae took turns taking drinks from the thermos until the cocoa ran. Neither felt the need to say anything as they watched the firelight crackle and burn.

Bea found herself thinking that these simple, quiet moments were what she had missed most about Mae. She found it strange how after so many years spent barely acknowledging each other’s existence (a wound which still stung much more than Bea cared to admit), they still fit together, even if that fit was rough and jagged around the edges. Circumstances had changed, of course: Bea wasn’t the naive, bright-eyed girl she had once been (she _never, ever_ would be again), and Mae had... her own troubles which neither of them fully understood. They had each been chewed up and spat out by Possum Springs; by the world, and waiting for their relationship to revert back to the simplicity of childhood was about as hopeless as waiting for the stars to burn out.

But, at the end of the day, they were still Beabea and Maedae (stuck together, don't suck together); Bea wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You know,” Mae started, raising her voice enough for Gregg and Angus to hear, “I think I had a dream like this, back in college.”

Gregg’s head twitched up. “Oh? Like, good dream or bad dream?”

Mae chewed her lip in thought. “Um. Good dream, I think - for the most part. It was the four of us, and we were all sitting in, like, some sort of cosmic void around a bonfire.”

“Oh _wow,_ ” Gregg said, dragging out the word with a grin. “That _does_ sound nice. Definitely not spooktastic at _all._ ”

Mae scoffed, rubbing her paws together. “It _was_ nice! I think. Like, it felt really nice and warm even though we were in space and shit.”

Bea chuckled, and Mae rolled her eyes. “Yeah, fire tends to have that effect on people.”

“Ugh!” Mae threw her arms out wide in (apparently?) genuine annoyance. "Why do I have the feeling that's what you said in the dream, too?"

“Because you know us so well," Angus answered.

Bea took a final drag off her cigarette, and ground it out against the side of the log. She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl up in the air. “Were we doing anything interesting? Or were we just, like, hanging out in the void?”

Mae scratched her chin in thought. “Eh. Mostly hanging out. But I think it was, like, Longest Night (which was cool ‘cause I didn’t know they did holidays in the void), so, like, we were all celebrating and stuff.”

“Oh!” Angus said, lifting his head a few inches off Gregg's shoulder. “That’s what you were talking about when you and I went to the hill!”

Mae’s eyes widened, and she raised her paws high in the air. “Yes! That’s it!” She let out a sigh of relief. “Geez, that’s been bugging me for, like, weeks!” She turned to Bea with a grin on her face. “In the dream, I'm pretty sure we were finding all the Longest Night constellations!

“Heh. I haven’t done that since I was, like, ten.” Bea felt a twinge of sadness at her own words; she pushed it aside. “I’m... pretty sure I can only remember a couple of them, now.”

Mae frowned, and tilted her head up to look at the stars shining bright above them. “Yeah. Well, in the dream at least, Angus was, like, a walking encyclopedia. He knew all the stories.”

Angus stifled a yawn. “I can assure you that I know basically nothing about the stars, other than they are very big and _very_ far away.”

“That’s about as much as I know,” Gregg said, tucking his head against Angus’. “Wait, I lied! I know that they are also _very_ hot!”

Bea smiled, letting her shoulders slacken as she relaxed against Mae's touch. “I’m impressed. Between the four of us we might be able to come up with a single scientific fact.”

Mae laughed. “Man, if Mr. Chazokov could see us now! He’d be so proud!” She turned her gaze back up towards the stars, bouncing her leg restlessly. “I know Longest Night is a few weeks away, but, like, I wonder if any of the holiday constellations are out yet.”

Gregg and Angus turned to look up, and Bea followed suit. The night sky was an ocean of black, dotted with a blanket of white and blue stars. Bea was struck with the realization that she couldn’t remember the last time she had taken the time to sit and watch them glitter and shine.

Gregg pointed up with an eager paw, waving it around in a wide circle. “Theeeeeereeeee's Mundy!”

Bea squinted, struggling to find a pattern. "The whale? With, like, the world on its back?"

“Yeah! Mundy!” Mae said. “But you can see Mundy all year, soooooo I don’t think he really counts for Longest Night!”

Gregg snorted. “Don’t you go dissing my whale! He works hard!”

“Harder than you!” Mae fired back.

The next few minutes went by in this fashion: Gregg and Mae would find a constellation or two (real or imaginary -  Bea couldn't tell), and the other would find some way to discredit it. Soon, Bea found that she was spending more time watching Mae than trying to find shapes in the sky. Mae’s enthusiasm for the constellations was infectious. Her bright, bloody red eyes glittered with starlight, and when she smiled, her fangs glimmered and shone under the glow of the moon...

Mae let out a whoop of joy, pointing up with a jab of her arm. “There! I found one!”

Gregg let out a nearly identical whoop. “A real one?”

“A _real_ one!”

Bea squinted at the night sky, trying to find whatever Mae had seen, only to find a meaningless jumble of stars. “A Longest Night one?”

“A _Longest Night_ one!” Mae chirped, leaning closer Bea. She moved her paw around slowly so that Bea could track the motion, and outlined a seemingly random (yet strangely familiar) mish-mash of shapes among the stars. “It’s, uh - _God,_ what’s it called? The one that, like, invented music and all that?”

Bea chuckled as a flash of recognition ran through her. "Harmonium."

Mae snapped her fingers triumphantly. “Yes! Harmonium!”

“Harmonium!” Gregg yelled, throwing his arms high in the air.

Angus jolted at the sudden outburst, and took a deep breath to calm himself. "Gregg..."

Gregg winced. “Sorry, Captain!” He slowly lowered his arms, and reached out to hold one of Angus' paws with his own. “Harmonium!” he whispered.

Bea let out a long, low sigh as memories flashed through her mind. “Harmonium.” She ran her hand across Mae's scarf, twirling her claws through the fabric. "Mom always told me I looked like them.”

Mae was quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Her eyes darted between Bea and the stars. When she spoke, her voice was low and gentle. “I can see the resemblance.”

Bea rolled her eyes, and fought to push away the flood of memories of Longest Nights long since gone. “Ugh. Let me guess: ‘cause of the snout, right?”

“Well, _yeah,_ there is that, but also..." Mae said, her tone softening to a gentleness she hardly ever bothered to attempt. Her ears pressed back flat against her head. "Like. Y’know. Uh." Her paws balled into fists; her shoulders tensed up. She turned to regard Bea with those bright, bloody red eyes, looking at her like she was the only person in the world.

"You're both beautiful," Mae finished, voice barely a whisper.

 _Oh, fuck. Fuck,_ ** _fuck,_** **fuck.**

Bea swallowed. There was a lump in her throat that hadn't been there a second ago; she could hear her heart start to pound. "Uh, thanks."

_Don't just say thanks! Think of something else!_

Bea opened her mouth to continue to speak, but stopped herself.

 _Beautiful._ Bea- _utiful._

"Was... was that a pun?" Bea asked, not entirely sure which answer she feared more.

"No - no, not completely!" Mae grimaced, as though she couldn't believe her own words. "I mean no! I just! You and - and the stars! And _pretty_ -"

Bea had expected this night to go in any number of directions; finding out Mae thought she was beautiful was _not one of them._

_Don't just stare at her! Say something. Anything. Literally anything._

"Since you brought it up... Um... You're cute," Bea mumbled. As soon as she realised what she had said, she began to wish that one of Deep Hollow County's famous sinkholes would do her a favor and swallow her up.

_Except! That!_

"And I just-" Mae blinked, cutting her rambling off before it could fully start as she processed what Bea had said. Her paws loosened; her shoulders relaxed. "What."

"Ugh," Bea groaned, bringing a hand up to rub at her face as an excuse to break eye contact. "You heard me."

"You. Think. I'm. Cute," Mae said, pronouncing each word slowly and carefully as though it was her first time saying them.

Bea was sure she had felt this embarrassed before at some point in her life, but she wasn't able to recall any examples at the moment.

"Y-you... I'm cute?" Mae stammered. Despite her obvious unease, her mouth was curling into that same _damn fang-baring smile._ Something twisted in Bea's stomach.

"Damn it, Mae," Bea snapped in spite of the nervous grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. "I'm not going to sit here for the rest of the night repeating myself to you."

Mae continued to smile. Blushing scarlet, she leaned against Bea fully, letting the side of her head rest against Bea's shoulder. "You think I'm _cuuute,_ " she said, audibly overjoyed.

"Oh, fuck off," Bea muttered, though she couldn't muster any anger to put behind the words.

"Wow," Gregg interjected with a laugh. " _Wow._ I thought you two weren't, like-"

Angus nudged Gregg in the side with his elbow. "Bug, not now."

"Sorry, sorry! I just-" Gregg began to laugh again "- _wow!_ "

If looks could kill, Gregg wouldn't have died, but the glare Bea leveled at him definitely would've left him laid up in the hospital for a few weeks. He stopped laughing, but continued to grin at Bea and Mae like it was his sole purpose in life. Angus at least had the decency to suffer from second-hand embarrassment, if his sheepish smile was any indication.

"I'm Cuuuuuuuute _,_ " Mae repeated, pulling Bea into a hug that was as soft as it was tight. “ _Cuuuuuuuuuuuuuute._ ”

Bea groaned, blushing harder. "Yeah," she said, lifting her arm to drape it around Mae's shoulders, "cute."

Mae _giggled,_ and that sweet, ringing laugh washed away the worry bubbling inside Bea's chest.

***

"Would anyone like to say a few final words?" Gregg asked, looming over the pile of glowing embers and smoking ash that had once been a campfire.

Mae raised her paw high in the air. “I’d like to say something!”

Gregg pointed at Mae with a level of enthusiasm usually only displayed by game show hosts. “Yes, tiny lady in the denim jacket? What do you have to say about our dear friend?”

Mae rolled her eyes, taking a moment to heave a sigh before speaking. “I may not have known Bonfire for long, but they always struck me as, like, _such_ a stand-up person. They worked, like, so dang hard to keep us warm tonight.” She wiped imaginary tears off her face. “And, in our hour of need, they showed us fireflies. Also: lots of smoke in the face - which was, like, actually pretty funny, so I don’t hold it against them." She slowly lowered her paw. "Uh... amen?"

"Amen!" Gregg nodded solemnly. “Well said." He clasped his paws together. "With the (nonexistent) power vested in me by the Possum Springs Snack Falcon, I, Greggory Lee, declare this fire... over!”

Without any further warning, Gregg and Mae began taking turns kicking clumps of dirt and snow onto the embers in an attempt to extinguish them - an activity which quickly devolved into a game to see who could kick the most dirt onto the other’s legs.

Bea took a drag off her latest cigarette as she watched the spectacle unfold. “If they end up starting a forest fire, I’m denying I’ve ever known them.”

Angus chuckled, and finished stuffing the last of the night’s discarded wrappers into his duffel bag. “Your plan hinges on Gregg and Mae _also_ claiming they don’t know you.”

“Eh.” Bea flicked ash off the cigarette. “I can make it work.”

Angus zipped the bag shut, and flashed a grin at Bea. “You couldn't possibly get _both_ of them to go along with it."

Bea snorted. “Uh-huh. Right. You sure you don’t need a hand with that?”

Angus slung the duffel bag across his shoulder, pausing to adjust his glasses. “I’m fine. If I could make it up this mountain of a hill while it was full, I can make it back down while it's almost empty."

"Fair enough."

Angus cleared his throat, fiddling with the strap of the bag. "So."

"So?"

"You and... Mae?"

_Shit._

Bea ran her hand over Mae's scarf, and kept her voice as dry and emotionless as possible. "What about her?"

There was a long beat of silence where they regarded each other: Angus with a curious tilt of his head; Bea with a carefully neutral expression.

"...I'm just glad you two are getting along so well," Angus ended up saying. "I know when she first came back from college, hanging with her was a bit... rough around the edges for you."

Bea scoffed. "When it comes to Mae Borowski, _everything_ is rough around the edges."

Except, funnily enough, Mae herself; she was smooth, all soft lines and gentle curves and Goddammit why the hell was Bea getting distracted so _easily_ tonight?

Angus hummed in affirmation. "True. But Mae really brings out a different side of you, and that's... nice to see."

Bea took a drag off her cigarette, and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift into the wind. "How so? Am I even less fun than normal around her?"

Angus gave a gentle smile. "Hardly. She makes you _laugh._ And given how these last few years have been for us, I was starting to think simply getting you to smile was almost impossible."

"What can I say?" Bea asked, shrugging her shoulders. "Mae has that effect on me."

Angus' smile grew decidedly coy. "I've noticed."

Bea blushed, averting her eyes to study her boots in a vain effort to still the beating of her heart. "Yeah. Well."

"You like her, right?" Angus said casually, like he was asking Bea about her lunch preferences, and not posing a question she had been grappling with for weeks.

"I..." Bea mumbled, rubbing the ridges on the back of her neck. She felt her blush grow hot.

Angus laughed - damn him, even his laugh sounded _kind_ and _gentle,_ without a hint of mockery. "I thought so."

_This night is officially a train wreck._

Bea swallowed. She was beginning to feel queasy, and for once she was sure it wasn't the result of the cigarettes. "...Am I really that obvious?"

"Bea, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I'm struggling to think of a way you could be any more obvious."

"Fuck." Feeling an impending headache begin to blossom, Bea rubbed at her temples with the tips of her claws. "What am I going to do, Angus?"

Angus reached out to softly pat Bea on the shoulder with his paw. "Bea, if there is only _one_ person out of the four of us who is able to figure out what to do next, it's you."

 _That's not true,_ Bea nearly said. _That's complete and utter bullshit._

A part of Bea, though, almost managed to believe him. She took a deep breathe, and met his gaze. "Thanks, Angus. Really."

A wild yell from Gregg brought Bea and Angus' attention back towards their companions. "Give! Up!"

A clump of dirt and ash slammed into Mae's hip, and she let out a yowl as long as it was melodramatic. "Never!"

Bea couldn't help but chuckle. "I think we should probably stop them before someone gets hurt."

Angus gave Bea one final pat on the shoulder before withdrawing his paw. "Thank goodness they've stayed away from the knives."

"So far," Bea added, dropping her cigarette to the ground.

Thankfully, stopping Gregg and Mae from holding an impromptu fight was easier than Bea had anticipated. After some (mostly) good natured grumbling from both of them about the state of their boots and pants, the four friends stood in a small circle around the fire pit: Gregg and Angus held paws, while Bea and Mae sidled up close beside each other.

"This was good," Mae said, rubbing her paws together. "Fun. Nice. Cool."

"Yeah! S'mores! Fire! Cocoa!" Gregg said, waving his free arm with wild abandon.

"More fire!" Mae added, raising her arms high. "We _need_ to do this again!"

Gregg's arm waved faster. "We should, like, pick a weekend and do a proper campout!"

"Definitely!" Angus said, giving Gregg's paw a squeeze. "After we get settled in Bright Harbor."

Mae's smile wavered slightly at the reminder of their upcoming move, but her voice still rang with cheer. "Yes! Whaddya say, Beabea?"

A few months ago, the prospect of spending days stuck in the wilderness with Mae and Gregg constantly bouncing off of each other would've filled Bea with immediate unease. Now, though, after everything they had been through...

"That sounds just fine by me," Bea said, returning Mae's smile with one of her own. "More than fine."

Mae and Gregg whooped with flailing arms and twitching ears.

They said their goodbyes (by _God_ did Mae know how to drag out an interaction which shouldn't have taken more than a couple of seconds). And, within a few minutes, Bea found herself hiking down the same forested path she had climbed earlier in the night. Thankfully, it was much easier going _down_ than going up. Mae made the occasional observation or joke, but otherwise stayed quiet as they trekked side-by-side through snow and fallen leaves.

Around a quarter of the way down the hill, Mae suddenly stopped walking, and crouched down low to the ground.

Bea paused mid-step, turning to quirk a brow at Mae. "Uh. You okay?"

Mae opened and closed her paws several times, glancing up at Bea with mischief written on her face. "I'm testing out my theory from before."

Bea sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "Which one?"

"The one where I tuck and roll my way down to the bottom of the hill.”

"Nope."

“I’ll try my best to avoid hitting any trees!” Mae said, like that made any sort of difference whatsoever.

“No. I’m not letting you do this. Even if you don't give yourself a concussion, I'm not letting you track mud and shit into my car."

Mae's ear perked up. She held her paws up pleadingly. "How 'bout a compromise? I won't roll down the hill if you let me drive!"

Bea mulled it over for a couple of seconds. She reached into her coat and produced her keys, making sure to jingle them to grab Mae's attention. "Sure. Knock yourself out."

Mae's face lit up like a kid during Harfest. She jumped to her feet, mouth spread wide in a disbelieving grin. "Yeah!?"

Bea stuffed the keys back into her pocket before Mae had a chance to snatch them, unable to hide her own grin. "Naw. Absolutely not. Let’s get going before I leave your ass here.”

“My _cute_ ass, you mean,” Mae asked with an infuriatingly adorable wiggle of her brow.

“I-” Bea blushed. Part of her had hoped that Mae would’ve found a way to forget about _that_ particular conversation. Another part of her was inexplicably excited that she hadn’t. “...Welp. Now I _have_ to leave you here.”

Mae cackled. "Y'know, there's nothin' wrong with thinking I'm cute!" She took a few steps towards Bea, flushing hard. "I'm cute and you're pretty! These are just facts of life!"

Bea's breath caught in her throat as she blushed a _furious_ shade. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of me leaving you in the woods." She turned, and continued to traipse back down the hill.

"You're an evil woman, Beatrice!" Mae shouted after her. " _Evil!_ "

Bea smiled to herself, and pulled Mae's scarf tight around her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This chapter's title comes from the song Rhiannon, by Fleetwood Mac


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